


Hot Town, Summer in the City

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris is 110 degrees, Methos is sweltering without a/c, and MacLeod stops by with refreshments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Town, Summer in the City

**Author's Note:**

> Last date on this file is Dec 15, 1999. This may have been part of a Christmas challenge, since it was written in winter.

The midafternoon sun was relentless, driving the heat index up to well over 110 degrees. A warning had gone out all over Paris -- save electricity and only use your air conditioning if absolutely necessary -- for the elderly, young, and pets. Since Methos was neither elderly nor young, nor did he have any pets, he was doing without, braving the sweltering heat. The fact that his apartment building didn't _have_ central air was beside the point.

Sighing wearily, Methos wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, instantly hating the sticky feel of his own skin. He had already spent half the day in the bathtub, hoping the cool water would help, but it heated too quickly. The fan he had bought did little, circulating the muggy air but lending nothing to ease the closeness.

Methos lay against on the floor with his back against the refrigerator, feeling the condensation trickle down his naked back, just between his shoulderblades. Even stripped down to his boxers, he was still miserably hot.

His head snapped up as he felt the Buzz of another Immortal. Dragging himself to his feet, he grabbed his sword on the way to the door.

"Methos."

Methos stopped, looking warily at the door. The voice sounded like MacLeod's, but it was too cheerful, too... perky. No one should be that perky on a day like this.

"Who is it?" Methos called, edging closer to the door.

"It's me, MacLeod. Open up," the hushed voice implored, "I've got something for you."

Methos lowered his sword and unchained the door. Muttering, "Unless it's your head..." he swung the door wide, glaring at the Scotsman.

Duncan MacLeod hurried inside, a package clutched to his chest. He glanced around, the whispered, "Shut the door."

Methos rolled his eyes but obeyed, enjoying the slight breeze the door slamming brought to his apartment. He followed MacLeod to his own kitchen, bemusement edging out his anger. MacLeod acted as if he owned the place.

"Something I can help you with?" Methos asked sarcastically.

MacLeod ignored him, searching through the cabinets until he came up with a bowl. Setting it on the counter, he turned back to Methos, grinning. "You'll never guess what I found."

Methos sighed patiently. "I'm not in the mood to play twenty questions, MacLeod. It's hot, you're extra body heat, so if you don't mind..." he gestured to the door.

MacLeod's smile widened. "Oh, Methos. You don't want me to leave. Not with what I've found."

The look of childish impudence was too much; Methos was hooked. "All right, what do you have?" Methos walked to the counter, peering inside the bag. He quickly clamped the bag shut, turning his wide eyes to MacLeod's.

"Where?"

"I swore I wouldn't tell. Look underneath," MacLeod instructed.

Methos tore into the bag, pulling out the small bag, then the still-cool tub. "Is this real?" he asked. At MacLeod's nod, Methos breathed, "Ooh, Highlander, I could kiss you."

Duncan grinned. "Later. Right now... let's eat!"

~~~~~

Methos plucked another strawberry from the bag, dragging it through the real whipped cream before bringing it to his lips. Wrapping his lips around it carefully, he sucked hard, drawing all the cream off the plump redness. Flicking his tongue along the point, he drew it further into his mouth, finally biting into the sweetness, feeling the juice squirt to all corners of his mouth. He nibbled until there was nothing left but stem, then tossed that aside, sliding his gaze to MacLeod.

Duncan's face was flushed, his breathing erratic. "Something wrong Highlander?" Methos asked, purring as he licked the last vestiges of the juice from his fingers. "Hand me another."

MacLeod blinked, breaking the spell. "No way! You've had more than me," he pouted, licking the cream delicately from the plump strawberry he held in his hand.

"Pleeeese?" Methos begged, fixing his best woe-be-gone look on MacLeod.

"No." MacLeod remained stubborn, actually picking up the bag and holding it against his chest.

Methos' tongue darted out, licking the corners of his mouth sensually. "Please," he murmured, leaning closer to the Highlander, his eyes huge.

Duncan sighed. "All right. But this is the last one."

Methos' triumphant smile was not missed by MacLeod, who got a wicked idea. He stopped Methos' hand, instead picking up the strawberry for himself. Holding it aloft, he dug it deep into the whipped cream, scooping out a generous amount. Flicking his tongue at the excess, MacLeod watched as Methos' eyes narrowed to focus intently at his hand. Smirking, MacLeod held the strawberry out to Methos, tugging it back until Methos was leaning too far forward... and he slipped, digging his elbow into the cream.

MacLeod burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face at Methos' look of disbelief and anger. Methos carefully ran one finger along his elbow, removing a large glob of cream... and flicking it casually onto MacLeod's cheek.

Now Methos was laughing, and MacLeod was staring at him in disbelief. Thinking quickly, MacLeod tossed the whole strawberry into his mouth, mumbling around it, "Last one."

Methos' laughter stopped abruptly. He grabbed the bag, shaking it. Empty. The look of absolute dejection almost caused MacLeod to laugh again, but he didn't dare; he might choke to death. He chewed and swallowed, licking his lips.

"Sorry Methos, but since I brought 'em, I got the last one."

"But..." Methos pouted, "You brought them for me."

"I brought them for _us_ ," MacLeod corrected. "And we shared them. I figured you could use some cooling off, and I needed to get away from the barge."

"Humid?" Methos snapped, standing up and heading to his fridge. Hauling out a pitcher of water, he guzzled about a quarter, then placed it back inside.

"There's no reason to get angry at me, Methos! I just brought you strawberries -- fresh strawberries, in the middle of one of the hottest summers Paris has ever had! I don't deserve this!" MacLeod growled.

Methos glared at him, his expression softening. "You're right, MacLeod. I should just accept it. There aren't any more strawberries." He sighed dramatically. "Though what I wouldn't _do_ for just one more taste..." he hinted, sauntering back to the living area and flopping on the couch, expectantly.

MacLeod's eyes narrowed as he studied the ancient Immortal. He knew a trick when he saw one. Instantly, he realized what Methos was implying, and had to fight back a chuckle.

"What _would_ you do, Methos?" MacLeod asked oh-so-innocently.

Methos' senses went on alert, all his nerves tingling as he contemplated MacLeod's words. "Anything," he remarked casually, "within reason."

"Let me think on it," MacLeod dismissed it as he knelt by the couch. "Want to taste? Come and get it."

The corners of Methos' mouth curled upward, and he cupped MacLeod's face in his hands, drawing him closer. His tongue darted out, licking along MacLeod's lips, slowly making its way inside, meeting MacLeod's impatient tongue. He drew out the taste, savoring it, only leaving MacLeod's mouth when he couldn't breathe.

Panting heavily, MacLeod sat on the floor, staring wide- eyed at Methos. "Had your fill?"

"Nope," Methos drawled, licking his lips one more time, agonizingly slow.

"Good." MacLeod grinned.

ze end!


End file.
